Descended from Robin Hood
by whirlyite
Summary: The title says it all.  A fantasy inspired by Newkirk's claim in "Drums Along the Dusseldorf".  Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**DESCENDED FROM ROBIN HOOD**

**Chapter 1 - Prologue**

Wilson peered over Carter's shoulder at the recumbent figure in the lower bunk. "Thanks for letting him use your bunk Andrew. I don't think he could've made it up to his tonight."

"Oh sure Joe. I'm happy to let Peter use my bunk anytime he needs to." He knelt down and tucked the blankets tighter around his slumbering English friend and then moved to sit at the common table. He looked back at Wilson. "How long do you think he'll need to use it?"

Wilson shook his head as he sat down beside Carter. "No longer than a couple of nights. His ankle isn't sprained thank goodness, just badly wrenched. It should heal up enough within the next few days for him to be able to get back into his bunk without any difficulty."

Carter's gaze went past the medic to the closed door of the Colonel's quarters. "How about the Colonel?"

Wilson looked back over his shoulder and then faced Carter again. "He'll be fine. He just needs plenty of rest, water and good food. We were incredibly lucky Newkirk rescued him before the Gestapo could figure out who they actually had in custody and begin the real torture. As far as they were concerned, the Colonel was just a minor underground operative."

"You can say that again!" sighed Carter. He perked up at the sight of LeBeau quietly exiting Hogan's quarters. "Louis, how is the Colonel doing?"

LeBeau sat his tray on the table and took the bowl and cups to the sink. "He is fine André." He walked back to the table and addressed Wilson. "He drank some water, as well as a cup of broth and is now asleep."

Wilson nodded knowingly. "It's pretty sad that as exhausted and banged up as the two of them were, we still had to sedate them to force them to rest!"

"Oui!" smiled LeBeau as he glanced over at Newkirk. "I see Pierre finally fell asleep as well."

"Yeah", agreed Carter. "I had to make his tea extra strong so he couldn't taste the sleeping pill."

Wilson got up, yawning and stretching as he spoke, "Well it wasn't a very strong sedative. It was just enough to push him over the edge and ensure he slept."

LeBeau walked back over to the sink to finish cleaning up and he called over to Wilson, "Will either of them be able to stand roll call in the morning?"

Wilson rubbed his chin thoughtfully before he replied. "Good question. Don't let Schultz wake them up for roll call. I'll square it with the Kommandant. I'll report that the Colonel came down with a severe stomach virus during the night and I'm pretty sure Peter also came down with the same malady. I'll tell him I need to quarantine the barracks so it doesn't spread. That should give them the extra time they need to rest." He gestured to Louis. "Put a bucket beside the bunk just for realism, okay?" He put a hand on each of LeBeau's and Carter's shoulders. "Come get me if anything changes fellas. I'm headed to bed myself."

LeBeau arose and accompanied Wilson to the bunk bed that concealed the tunnel entrance. He leaned down and called after the medic as he climbed down underground, "Merci Joe! Come back after roll call for breakfast!"

"Sounds good!" echoed Wilson's disembodied voice from the cavern below. The bunk slammed shut and LeBeau turned back to Carter with a relieved sigh.

"Kinch should be back up shortly, it is nearly time for lights out."

Carter nodded tiredly, ready for sleep himself. It had been an extremely anxious, nerve-wracking night for all three of them. Newkirk's solo rescue of Colonel Hogan from the hands of the Gestapo had proved to be a very near thing. He had stumbled and twisted his ankle as he rushed his disoriented CO down a flight of stairs with several guards in hot pursuit. Fortunately, two underground agents showed up as previously arranged just in time to distract the pursuing soldiers, allowing Newkirk to get the Colonel to the car and back to camp.

The bunk opened up again and Kinch climbed up and out. He walked over to Carter's bunk and knelt down beside it. He looked back over his shoulder at LeBeau and Carter and cocked his eyebrow in an unspoken query.

"Wilson said he should be fine in a few days Kinch," answered the Frenchman.

"Same for the Colonel," put in Carter.

Kinch nodded and gently patted Newkirk on the back before he arose. "Good! Let's get ready for lights out then fellas."

* * *

><p>His last conscious memory was choking down Carter's godawfully strong cup of tea as Wilson examined and taped his swollen, throbbing ankle. After he finished his tea, he yawned and closed his eyes for just a moment. He vaguely recalled next being hurriedly bundled off to lie onto Carter's bottom bunk. Despite his overwhelming weariness, he simply could not get comfortable. Carter noticed him fidgeting and gulped a quick 'Sorry buddy!' as he reached beneath the mattress to retrieve his handmade bow, the same bow Newkirk had used the week before to destroy a German truck laden with top secret fuel. Finally relieved of the annoyance beneath the mattress, the Englishman lapsed into a deep sleep.<p>

At least he thought he fell asleep. He blinked and sat up suddenly. He rose to his feet, deliberately favoring his sore ankle and was surprised to find that he could stand normally. His ankle didn't hurt at all and appeared to be fine. _Blimey! 'ow did that 'appen?_ he wondered to himself. He could've sworn he remembered Wilson tightly wrapping it before he went to bed. He looked down at himself, then at his surroundings and immediately decided that he'd finally gone round the bend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 –We're Not in Germany Anymore Toto**

He found himself standing in a sizable clearing surrounded by what appeared to be an enormous, dense forest. He looked back to where he had been sleeping. Instead of Carter's bunk, he saw the base of a huge oak tree; he had apparently been nestled in a soft, thick patch of clover that grew beneath its massive, spreading branches. He rubbed his eyes and looked a second time. The tree was still there. He looked straight up and was unable to see the sky through its thick, verdant foliage.

He spread his arms out to examine the extremely strange regalia he wore and found himself clad in Lincoln Green from head to toe. _ Cor! What 'appened to me nightshirt?_ As he tried to get his thoughts organized, a voice echoed out from within the forest.

"Robin? Rise and shine buddy! It's time to eat!" A thin, gangly man dressed entirely in red emerged into the clearing.

He nearly swallowed his tongue when he recognized the scarlet-clad figure. _Carter?_ He blurted out, "Andrew? What the 'ell…?"

The man smirked knowingly in response to his words. "It's too early for your jests Robin. You know very well my name is Will!"

"Will?" he bleated in confusion.

The man came forward amiably and extended his hand. "All right, I'll play the fool for you. My name is Will Scarlett. And you would be…?"

"Uh," he had no idea what to say. He didn't think 'Peter Newkirk' would be perceived as the correct answer. Wait a minute, didn't this Will Scarlett just call him 'Robin'? He knew of only one gent named Robin who lived in the forest. "Uh, Robin…Robin…Hood?"

"Very good!" Will Scarlett bowed mockingly and then grabbed him by the arm to drag him along with him. Scarlett suddenly stopped, released his grip on his arm and pointed behind them. "What's wrong with you today Robin? Don't forget your bow!"

He looked back at the tree. Yes, there was a Welsh longbow and a quiver full of goose-fletched arrows lying on the ground beside the clover patch. He shook his head and turned to comment, then thought better of it. He leaned down to retrieve the bow and quiver, then reluctantly followed Will Carter, uh, that is, Will Scarlett into the forest.

The sunlight abruptly disappeared as they moved further within the deep canopy of the forest. "Andrew?" No answer. "Andrew! Uh, sorry, Will?"

"Yes Robin?"

"Where are we?"

Scarlett stopped and turned around to face him, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Did a branch fall off Major Oak and hit you in the head during the night Robin?"

"Major Oak?" He looked back at the magnificent tree he had apparently slept beneath the previous night. _That's the Major Oak? __The__ Major Oak?_ He shook his head and then as an afterthought, gingerly checked it for knots. Whatever was going on here was getting entirely out of hand. "No, not that I remember."

Scarlett sighed and shook his own head. "If you must have your jest, I won't disappoint you. You are in Sherwood Forest, in Nottinghamshire, in England. Now if you are satisfied, let's go! You can tell all of us where the Sheriff is holding King Richard whilst we eat."

"Sheriff? As in, the Sheriff of Nottingham?"

Scarlett sighed again and nodded.

"King Richard? As in, the…the Lionheart?" It seemed he was doomed to parrot back everything Scarlett said in the form of a question.

Scarlett reached out to grasp his arm. "This jest has gone far enough Robin! Are you going to keep this up all morning? You told us before you left last night that you would have a plan to rescue Richard when you returned!"

He opened his mouth to ask yet another question, such as '_I did?'_, but changed his mind at the darkening expression on Scarlett's face. He patted Scarlett's hand and removed it from his arm, deciding that until he found out what was going on, it would be prudent to fit in for now. "I did, didn't I? All right mate, let's go. Lead on Scarlett!"

Scarlett unexpectedly broke into a wide grin. "You had me worried Robin! I did not want to have to carry on in your jest with the rest of the men."

_Rest of the men? Blimey! Robin's Merrie Men? _He had forgotten about that lot. He began to get a bad feeling about this as he followed Will Scarlett further into the forest.

In a few minutes they came upon another clearing accessed by what appeared to be a hidden bower. Scarlett waved to a sentry perched high within the limbs of a nearby tree as they entered and he stepped aside to allow his master to arrive first. Delicious aromas wafted about within the small shaded glade.

Scarlett approached a man bent over a cooking pot laid on a wood fire and called, "Much? I've fetched Robin like you asked, so let's eat! We're all hungry!"

_Much? MUCH? More like not enough!_ he thought helplessly as the diminutive cook turned around to face him and he saw none other than Louis LeBeau! He stood there, momentarily gobsmacked. _Where in the 'ell am I? What's 'appenin' 'ere?_ He decided to keep his mouth shut for now as Scarlett returned to stand beside him.

Scarlett then gestured and others appeared as if by magic from the lush foliage surrounding the small clearing. He thought his jaw would unhinge itself as he watched the men gather. Several of those who appeared to be the core Merrie Men caught his interest immediately.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, do not wake them?" Schultz' eyes went wide with fear upon hearing Kinch's words. He looked down at the sleeping Englishman in Carter's bunk and then cast a frightened glance at the closed door of Colonel Hogan's quarters.<p>

"Just what I said, Schultzie. The Colonel and Peter were throwing up all night long and they just got to sleep a few minutes ago." LeBeau made a great show of bringing in what appeared to be a newly-emptied bucket back to the side of the bunk whilst Kinch explained the situation to Schultz.

"They cannot miss roll call! I must report this!" Schultz headed for the door and turned back at Kinch's call.

"Tell the Kommandant to see Sergeant Wilson. He'll explain it to him."

"Oh danke, danke!" Schultz was all for anything that would make his job of 'seeing nothing' easier. He took off in search of Wilson and smacked into him in the doorway.

"Ser-Sergeant Wilson? What are you doing here? Back to your barracks! It would be worth my life...!" After all this time, Schultz still managed to become mightily flustered dealing with what the Kommandant once referred to as Barracks Two's 'shenanigans'.

"I've come to check on the Colonel and Newkirk. I've been told they're sick." Wilson gently pushed Schultz back inside and made for Carter's bunk. He knelt down and laid a solicitous hand on Newkirk's forehead. "Well there doesn't seem to be any fever. When did he begin to feel ill?"

Wilson rose and emitted several concerned 'hmmmms' as Kinch again explained the sudden onset of cramps and nausea that befell both Hogan and Newkirk during the previous night.

"I'll examine the Colonel now. This sounds like it might be very contagious. We may need to quarantine this barracks until it runs its course." He gestured to Schultz to accompany him and the guard shrank back, shaking his head.

"N-no Sergeant. I will wait outside!" Schultz backpedaled and made for the door as fast as his large bulk allowed. When he was well outside, Wilson shook his head at Kinch.

"Whew!" he exclaimed in relief.

Kinch came near and put a hand on Wilson's shoulder. "You can say that again!" he agreed. "I expect that once Klink hears the word 'contagious' he'll okay the barracks quarantine."

Wilson nodded, then gestured to LeBeau as he walked towards the Colonel's quarters. "Louis, help me check on the Colonel. Then I'll come back and look at Peter's ankle."

LeBeau nodded and followed Wilson into Colonel Hogan's quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - I Never Forget a Face**

"Robin? Robin! What is wrong with you this morning my friend? Little John is awaiting your reply." Scarlett's voice finally penetrated his daze. He felt like he had blacked out whilst still on his feet. He could've sworn he had heard his mates' voices conversing with each other somewhere in the background. He listened intently to try to catch the sound of their voices but it was gone.

"Huh? Oh…uh…still a mite tired. It was a very long night Andr, uh Will." He rubbed his eyes and then reached out to pull Scarlett near. He leaned in to whisper into his ear, "Listen mate, I think you may've been right about a branch hittin' me on the 'ead. I don't recall who most of these blokes are. Can you 'elp me out wi' their names?" He looked over at the knot of men gathered by the fire. "Now which one is Little John?"

"Did the Sheriff's men capture you last night Robin? Were you tortured?" Scarlett's voice sharpened with concern.

"No, no mate. Set yer mind at ease. They can't catch me, you know that!"

Scarlett shook his head in frustration. "As you wish Robin." He discreetly pointed to a tall, dark skinned man who stood halfway between the two of them and the group at the fire. He was staring at them, one eyebrow cocked in puzzlement. Scarlett extended his arm and waved him over to join them. He whispered, "This is Little John, as if you didn't know!"

His eyes once again snapped wide in astonishment and he worked hard to keep his mouth from dropping open as none other than Kinch walked up.

"Robin, why did you not answer me? Is there something wrong?"

"No, uh, Little…uh, John?" He had nearly said 'Little Kinch' and choked back a hysterical giggle at the thought.

"That was my name when we first met and it is still my name today." Little John turned to Scarlett, wondering what was suddenly so funny about his name. "What's wrong with him?"

Scarlett smirked, "A large branch fell from Major Oak and landed on his head whilst he slept. That's why he can't remember anything."

_As good an explanation as any_, he thought to himself as his gaze wandered back over to the group gathered beside LeBeau, or rather, Much.

Another instantly recognizable character had waddled over to deeply sniff the contents of the cooking pot. He reached in to snatch a taste and the small cook slapped his hand. "Oooh Much that smells wonderful! What are we waiting for? I am hungry!"

"You are always hungry!" retorted Much. "We are waiting for Robin!"

_Oh no! No, no, no! It can't be! It just can't be!_

Scarlett noticed his astounded expression and followed his stare. "Well, I see Tuck has finally arisen. We had better get back over there if we want to eat. There won't be anything left with him around."

He swallowed hard and grabbed Scarlett's arm. "Th-that's Friar…Tuck?" He almost did it again, the words 'Friar Schultz' nearly bursting from his mouth. He fought vainly to regain his composure as he suddenly lost it, bursting out in high pitched giggles he had absolutely no control over.

Scarlett grabbed him and dragged him to the far edge of the glade, chiding him with each step. "Robin! Robin! I swear something happened to you last night. You must restrain yourself! The men do not need to see you in this frame of mind!"

_Oh yes mate, somethin' did 'appen last night. I'm just not sure what._

He finally managed to get himself under some semblance of control and he and Scarlett walked back towards the fire where another of the men present looked very familiar. He nudged Scarlett and asked, "Who is that?"

Scarlett followed his gesture and sighed heavily. "That is Joseph the Healer."

_Well, that makes sense! _he thought sarcastically._ Bloke looks just like Joe Wilson! Funny, I don't remember Robin 'avin' a Merrie Man by that name. Blimey, wot is goin' on 'ere?_

Much peered at Scarlett searchingly and Scarlett shrugged. He turned to his master and spoke, "Robin, may we eat now, please? We're all famished."

"Oh, of…of course. Forgive me, go ahead mates."

LeBeau, uh, that is, Much dished up the first bowl and handed it to him. He brought it up to his nose and closely inspected it. It appeared to be a hearty porridge of some kind of mixed groats, cream and wild berries accompanied by a thick slab of dried venison. He nodded to himself in approval. _No snails or anything similarly slimy, thank goodness._ _Cor,_ _at least this LeBeau knows 'ow to cook good solid English food!_

When all were served, everyone tucked in ravenously. As each man temporarily concentrated his full attention upon his breakfast, he took his food and moved to sit off to the side to eat alone. He needed to do some serious thinking.

He couldn't understand why none of them recognized him as he recognized them. As far as all these blokes were concerned, he _really was_ Robin Hood, so it was up to him to act the part. He frantically combed his memory, trying to dredge up the tales of Sherwood that he had heard as a lad.

As he sat quietly eating, random memories began floating unbidden through his mind. He suddenly recalled with vivid detail the location and layout of the place where King Richard was being held prisoner; it was a large, heavily fortified building if he remembered aright and there had been soldiers, hadn't there? A staircase had been involved, or so he thought. He blinked in surprise at the unexpected revelations.

Wait a minute, didn't Cart-uh, Scarlett say something about him having a plan to rescue the King? He set his now empty bowl down and lowered his head wearily into his hands. _Strewth!_ _'ow am I supposed to come up wi' a plan when I don't even know what's goin' on?_

At that moment, Scarlett appeared at his side and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Robin? I am sorry to disturb your breakfast but the men are anxious to learn of your plan to retrieve our good King Richard."

"No worries, I'm finished eating." He got up and stood stock-still as another strikingly urgent thought unfolded without warning in his brain. He suddenly realized that the King must be rescued before the Sheriff of Nottingham returned from the south accompanied by Prince John! That meant the King surely must be imprisoned in Nottingham Castle, didn't it?

He turned to Scarlett and threw out a disguised query, "To be 'onest Will, I wasn't able to find the exact location in the...the building where the King is bein' held."

Scarlett sighed heavily, "Aye Robin, there are many rooms within Nottingham Castle. How can we find out exactly where the Sheriff has him?"

Well, that answered that question. He really couldn't depend upon these phantom memories for information and determined that he needed to investigate this personally. He grabbed Scarlett's arm and spoke urgently. "When is the Sheriff expected to return from London?"

Scarlett's face went blank and he called Little John over to confer with them. "Little John, Robin wants to know when the Sheriff returns from London."

"Our men in Nottingham reported he is expected by the end of this week." His dark eyes sharpened with curiosity, wondering just what Robin had in mind.

Okay, if he remembered aright it was Thursday so that gave him an additional day to come up with something. But wait, what day was it here? _Criminy! Time to ask yet another bleedin' obvious question!_

He pulled Scarlett aside so as not to appear a fool before Little John, although it was probably too late for that. "Uh, Will, what...what day is it today?"

Scarlett huffed in annoyance but answered him. "Today is Thor's Day Robin."

Upon hearing that, he sighed in relief and nodded his head. "Oh good. Nice to know some things are the same. Well, maybe not the same but close enough."

Scarlett stared at him blankly and decided to simply let it go for now. He crossed his arms across his chest and demanded, "What about your plan to rescue the King?"

"We'll put the plan in operation tomorrow evening." He was hoping to actually have some kind of plan in mind by then.

"Tomorrow? What is wrong with today?" protested Scarlett.

He casually draped his arm about the man's shoulders and drew him near. "For two reasons old son. First, I believe we need to do some further scouting and second, because Scarlett, tomorrow is another day!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Whither the Lionheart?**

Wilson and LeBeau exited the Colonel's quarters a few minutes later and Wilson responded to the men's unspoken worries. "The Colonel's doing fine fellas, still sleeping. Believe me, the rest will do him good."

LeBeau followed Wilson to Carter's bunk where the medic knelt down and lifted the blanket up at Newkirk's feet to check his ankle. The Frenchman leaned over Wilson's shoulder and watched as he gently probed the Englishman's bruised, swollen foot and ankle. Newkirk didn't stir as Wilson tucked the blanket back over his feet with a satisfied grunt.

"Well Joe?" asked LeBeau. Carter and Kinch stood beside the Frenchman, awaiting Wilson's prognosis. Wilson stood and looked around at all of them.

"He's doing fine, Louis. I just wanted to make sure I didn't tape his ankle too tightly. He still needs to rest as long as he possibly can."

A knock sounded at the door and Kinch opened it to reveal an obviously nervous Schultz standing several feet away from the doorway.

Kinch stepped outside and asked, "What is it Schultzie?"

Schultz gestured for Kinch to return inside the doorway. "Please Sergeant Kinchloe, do not come outside! The Kommandant has sent me to tell Sergeant Wilson that he is to stay inside your Barracks until the quarantine is lifted!"

"What was that Schultz?" asked a curious Wilson.

"Barracks Two is under quarantine until further notice per the Kommandant's orders!"

"What about roll call?" asked Carter.

"The Kommandant ordered me to do a head count, but...but..." Schultz took a step back.

"But what Schultzie?" Kinch wanted to know.

"I do not want to get whatever it is Colonel Hogan and Newkirk have!"

Wilson came forward and gestured Schultz to come closer. "Do you want me to count the men for you?"

Schultz' eyes darted about and then he leaned in to whisper, "Ja Sergeant, but no monkey business please?

Wilson's face projected the very picture of innocence. "Who me Schultz? I swear by Hippocrates that you can trust me!" He stepped back into the barracks and re-emerged to give Schultz the full count of men in the barracks plus himself.

Schultz looked none too convinced but he nodded and loped away.

Wilson closed the door after he stepped back inside. "Well fellas, guess you're stuck with me for the duration!"

* * *

><p>As the morning progressed, he felt the inexplicable pull of a steadily increasing sense of urgency. Even though he still didn't know how or why he had ended up here, he swore to carry on as the Robin Hood these men expected him to be, so he called the Merrie Men together beneath the imposing branches of the Major Oak. It was time to make definite plans to rescue the Lionheart from the Sheriff of Nottingham's clutches, for if the King proved to be who he thought he was, then time was of the essence.<p>

However, as he had told Will Scarlett, he first needed to make another reconnoiter of the castle to locate the exact room where the King was imprisoned so they would waste no time when they returned to set him free.

As Nottingham Castle had lain derelict for quite some time before the Sheriff took it over, an ongoing program of renovation and fortification was currently underway. It would be a simple thing for he and his accomplices to disguise themselves as common laborers to gain access to the castle.

He looked at the men gathered round him and took courage from the determination he saw on their faces. "Men, I wasn't able to locate the King within Nottingham Castle yesterday. We know 'e's there, we just need to find out exactly where. We also need to know 'ow many men the Sheriff 'as there. We can't just go in 'alf cocked, the King's life is at stake 'ere."

The men murmured in agreement amongst themselves, keeping their attention focused on him. He stood silent for a moment, then chose Scarlett and Little John to accompany him back to Nottingham Castle. He put Much and Friar Tuck in charge of providing the three of them with clothing suitable to that of the laborers engaged in the renovation of Nottingham Castle. They would leave after the noon meal.

* * *

><p>Getting inside the castle proved ridiculously easy, as they were able to blend into a large party of craftsmen and laborers on their way in. All three of them breathed a sigh of relief as the guards passed the workmen through as a group and did not scrutinize them individually.<p>

He turned back to Scarlett and Little John and whispered, "Let's 'ope the rest of the guards are just as lazy as those blokes!" His men had their doubts but they nodded in agreement regardless.

Once within the interior of the building, the workmen dispersed into smaller groups, based upon their skills. The masons headed in one direction, the carpenters in another, the painters in still another, depending on where they were working that day. The general laborers also scattered to their various locations and the three men of Sherwood did likewise as they sought to find where King Richard was being held.

They tagged along behind a group of several laborers, one of whom was, fortuitously enough, indelicately broaching that very subject.

"'sblood mate! I've 'eard tell that the Sheriff 'as our good King Richard 'ere in this very castle!" whispered one of the men.

His companion seemed unimpressed and told him so. "Ong-tongue's what you are. I'd not be blutterin' out such rubbish if I were you."

"It's truth, God blind me! One of the guards swore the King is right 'ere in this castle!"

"'e's daft then! Yer'll be gettin' us drawn and quartered if ya don't shut yer gob!"

"Don't believe me do ya? 'e's bein' 'eld in the old barracks building in the East Bailey accordin' to that bloke. I should think 'e would know..."

Before he even finished speaking, the other man turned to seize his talkative friend about the throat and hissed, "I said shut yer bleedin' gob. That's none of yer concern. If ya don't stop this squiddle, I'll 'ave ya sent 'ome and'll make sure ya never work again."

The gossiper clearly understood his position and shook himself out of the other man's grip. "Prithee, I willnae speak of it again. I beg your pardon."

The other man pushed his companion back after the others and whispered, "See that ya don't or I'll 'ave yer 'ead on a platter!"

The two men's conversation had not been as discreet as it should have been. Scarlett and Little John looked to their master, who like them, had overheard every bit of it.

"Someone's lookin' out for our good King Richard today mates! Let's 'ead for the East Bailey!"

* * *

><p>As they made their way through the castle, he idly wondered to himself as to the King's identity. <em>Could only be one person. I mean, who else could it be? All me other mates are already accounted for.<em>

They finally made their way to the relative isolation of the East Bailey, taking immense pains to arrive undetected whilst at the same time gauging the size of the castle's garrison. Soon they were carefully and quietly making their way down the hallways of what appeared to be an abandoned barracks within the walls of the bailey.

Surprisingly, they had not yet encountered any guards. Scarlett nudged him and whispered, "Robin, are you sure we're in the right place?"

"I'm not sure of anythin' right now Will, just keep goin'." No sooner had the words left his mouth than they heard the faint sound of voices echoing off the walls. "'ello, ello, what've we got 'ere?" He turned to his men. "C'mon! Let's take a look see!"

They silently crept along the wall which led them to a junction. He sent Little John to scout ahead, and he soon returned to report that the corridor to the left led to a dead end with two sentries standing guard at the entrance. He waited as his master digested that information.

"Good work Little John. I'd 'ave to guess that's where the King is being 'eld. What else is there to guard 'ere?" He rubbed his chin as he murmured, "The Sheriff mustn't think anyone would be lookin' for the King 'ere, since 'e's only got two guards posted."

"The question is, how do we get past them?" Scarlett wanted to know.

"And a very good question it is, Will." He had to ponder that one, since they needed to pave the way in order to come back and retrieve the King with the least amount of danger. Leaving two unconscious sentries behind today would have the entire garrison on alert.

He stepped back and thought furiously. "I've got it!" he whispered as he drew his two men close. "Come 'ere, mates. We're gonna pull an old-fashioned flim-flam on these blokes. Now Will, Little John, this is what I want you to do…."

_Flim-Flam?_ Little John stared wide-eyed at his master, wondering what on earth he was talking about. He looked to Scarlett, who shook his head and rolled his eyes. They both decided to just let it go and leaned in as their master quietly outlined his plan.

* * *

><p>The sound of loud voices suddenly bounced off the stone walls of the corridor.<p>

"Thou art the dullest, doltish dunce I have ever had the rude luck to befall!" complained Little John loudly as he and Scarlett approached the sentries. "Ye have us lost, I say!"

Scarlett affected a wounded countenance as he bleated, "Say not so, Elwethe! I but followed our good master's direction!"

The sentries stiffened in surprise as the two men marched right up to them, engaged in an intensely raucous argument. The nearest sentry stepped forward, brandished his pike and bellowed, "Halt!"

Both men jumped as if they had been so engrossed in their argument, they hadn't noticed the sentries. Little John pointed at the guard and thumped Scarlett roughly, "See what thou hast done now, featherhead?"

"Featherhead? How durst thou callest me that, thou font of waltrot?"

The sentry tried again and he approached the fractious pair. "Halt, I say! What business have you here?"

Little John bowed his head, acknowledging the sentry. "We are but humble laborers." He gestured at Scarlett dismissively. "Yon hoddypeak Barric here insists this is where we are to perform the day's labors and I say not!"

"T'is you towering lout!" Scarlett leaped up to cuff Little John on the head and Little John grabbed him about the throat to drag him out into the far right corridor. The sentry moved in to try to separate the two combatants and called for his companion's help. The second sentry left his post to rush to his companion's aid.

Little John craned his head in order to make sure he saw his master dash into the now-unguarded hallway. He then pulled Scarlett, along with the two sentries, further away down the far right corridor.

_Well done mates!_ He quickly made his way down the corridor, checking each chamber as he did so. He reached the dead end of the corridor at the last chamber, which was smaller than all the others, and peered through the barred opening set within the door into the dimly lit room. He gasped as he saw a tall figure dressed in a distinctive red surcoat adorned with the three leopards of England sagging against the stone wall, restrained at the hands and feet by shackles chained to the wall.

He squinted to get a better look at the bedraggled figure and saw that the man was indeed who he had suspected all along. _Cor blimey! It __is__ the Gov'nor! _He shook his head in amazement. _I _c_an't think of a more fittin' title for you than Cœur de Lion, Colonel. 'ang on! We're gonna get you outta 'ere!_

He called out in an urgent, low voice, "Sire?" There was no response from the royal prisoner. He tried again. "Sire? Don't despair Sire. We know you're 'ere and we'll be back soon to release you!"

The chained figure painfully inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"I 'ave to go now Sire. We'll be back!" He crept silently along the wall towards the noisy altercation in the far corridor and slipped back out into the shadows of the main corridor. He gestured to Little John, who nodded slightly and pretended to lose his grip on Scarlett's throat.

The sentries took that as their opening, seizing the two men and herding them back out to the main corridor junction.

"Be off with you! Take your sniping elsewhere! There is no labor to be done here! Return upon pain of death!"

"But…" protested Scarlett. The sharp points of the sentries' pikes poking his ribs changed his mind.

Little John grabbed him and they sullenly moved down the main corridor. "Come Barric! Ye've gotten us in enough trouble for one day!" He looked back to make sure the sentries resumed their positions, which they thankfully did. After they had gone some distance, he looked around and whispered, "Robin?"

"Over 'ere mate!" came the hushed reply. "Well done men! Yer both natural born tricksters!" He looked round the main corridor. "Now let's find our way out of 'ere!"

They headed down the main corridor and somehow got turned around, for they inadvertently headed into a shadowy, spider web laden blind that terminated into a small, crudely made, nondescript doorway. They suddenly stopped as something about it caught their master's attention.

"Robin! What are you doing? We need to flee!" hissed Scarlett after he suddenly smacked into Little John due to the unexpected stop.

A strange thought struck him as he perused the crude opening in the wall. _Could it possibly be…? I'll bet the Sheriff doesn't know about this!_ He knelt down and examined it more closely. He felt the slightest of breezes emanating from within the opening and gambled that his hunch was correct. _I'd bet real money this leads down to Mortimer's Hole! If so, I know exactly 'ow we're gonna rescue the Gov'nor!_ He turned to his two companions and waved at them to follow him inside.

"C'mon mates! This way!" he whispered. "Careful, don't take a tumble!"

There simply wasn't time for argument so Will Scarlett and Little John reluctantly followed their master into the dark opening. They carefully picked their way down an isolated, steep, seemingly interminable stairway which led them to a large, dark chamber dug deep within the castle's sandstone foundation.

A narrow entrance to what appeared to be a passageway had been carved through the solid sandstone. Scarlett and Little John stood back uncertainly as their master leaned in to investigate the tunnel's exceedingly dim, nearly pitch black interior.

Scarlett didn't look optimistic. "We have no idea where this tunnel ends. How do we know it doesn't lead to a dungeon or torture chamber?"

"We don't," put in Little John, who then turned to look searchingly at his master. "But we don't have much of a choice either, do we Robin?"

"No we don't," he agreed. He straightened up and looked fondly at both of them. "Don't fear mates, I have an old and familiar acquaintance with tunnels! Follow me!"

He ducked down and plunged into the dark depths, his two men following, albeit reluctantly. He raised his head, sniffed a bit, then whispered, "I smell fresh air. There must be an opening to the outside." He followed the scent down the long and winding passage, passing several junctions and chambers, until a steadily increasing light came into view. He sniffed the air again, and waved his men onward. "C'mon mates! 'ere's the entrance! Let's hie to Sherwood!"

He was right. They soon found themselves outside, skirting the sandstone outcrop that served as the foundation of the large outer bailey of the castle, to the east of the main building. Thankfully the area was heavily forested and they easily disappeared within the cover of the greenwood.

_A/N Mortimer's Hole is a historical reality._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – The Gang's All Here!**

Once the three men of Sherwood put no small distance between themselves and Nottingham Castle, they paused for a moment to rest and assimilate the results of their expedition.

As their master recounted the condition he had found King Richard in, Scarlett became indignant and he murmured angrily, "How dare Nottingham shackle His Royal Highness like a common cutpurse!"

"I take umbrage at that Will Scarlett! Nothin' common about us cutpurses! You oughta know that!"

"You know what I mean Robin!" smirked Scarlett.

"More than you know Will, more than you know!" He thumped Scarlett affectionately on the shoulder and then seated himself upon a large stone outcrop to peer thoughtfully up at his two men. "Comin' across that tunnel was a bit of good luck. That's our ticket back into the castle, lads. I'll wager the Sheriff 'as no idea it's even there."

Scarlett and Little John nodded in agreement and remained silent as their master continued to voice his thoughts aloud.

"Didn't appear to be a very large garrison, unless the bulk of the guards are travellin' with the Sheriff. Which, given that Sherwood is rife with outlaws..." he looked at his men with a wry smile, "would be a very wise decision on Nottingham's part."

"Aye," agreed Little John. "Given the Sheriff's last experience as he trod through Sherwood, I'd not be surprised if he had the bulk of the castle garrison with him!"

They all had a good chuckle at that; however, if that were indeed true, it meant that time was more than ever of the essence. For unbeknownst to them even as they spoke, the Sheriff's party had already completed more than three-quarters of the arduous, lengthy journey from London to Nottingham.

* * *

><p>After they arrived back at camp in Sherwood, the rest of the men noisily crowded round, anxious for news of the King. Little John and Will Scarlett tried to quiet the men down and bring about a measure of order.<p>

"Fellows! Fellows! Form a circle round about so all may hear!" shouted Scarlett. He urged the men to encircle the area where he and Little John stood in front of their master.

As the men obeyed Scarlett's instructions, Little John raised his arms, "Hush men! Let Robin speak!"

All eyes focused on their master, who stood upon a tree stump in the center of them all in order to be heard. "Men! Will, Little John and I found our good King Richard. I saw the King with me own eyes and spoke to 'im. We know exactly where 'e's bein' 'eld within the castle and we're goin' to return tomorrow to release 'im!"

The men raised their voices in three rousing huzzahs at that news. Scarlett and Little John once more quieted them down so their master could continue.

"Yer right men, that is good news indeed but we'll not be finished until we 'ave our good sovereign 'ere in Sherwood where we can protect 'im."

The men nodded and murmured amongst themselves. A single voice from the rear of the crowd called for quiet and then asked, "How and when, Robin?"

He chuckled and nodded. "The very questions I've been askin' meself! The 'when' is tomorrow mornin'. As for the other, 'ere's what we're gonna do..." The men gathered closer as their master outlined his plan to rescue good King Richard.

* * *

><p>After a night spent in preparation and rest, the next morning brought news of great and distressing import. They had just polished off another fine English breakfast courtesy of Much, when a shout arose.<p>

"Robin! Robin! A messenger for you!" There was something about the tone of Scarlett's voice that alarmed him and he immediately jumped up to answer.

"What goes there, Will?"

Scarlett ushered a badly-winded messenger forward, who approached to instantly take a knee.

"Get up mate! We don't stand on ceremony 'ere!" He reached down and lifted the man to his feet, then patiently waited whilst he recovered his breath. "Catch yer breath first, there ya go lad. Right, then. What 'ave you got to tell me?"

"Our sentries to the south report that Prince John, the Sheriff of Nottingham, and their column have entered Sherwood Forest!"

"What? Already?" He gestured Little John to come near. "I thought your spies said they were comin' back tomorrow!"

Little John shrugged, seemingly unperturbed. "Looks like they were wrong Robin."

_Apparently! Thanks for nothin' mate! _he fumed. What he said was, "That's a game changer, that is. We need a backup plan to slow down their progress." He paced as he thought the situation out. "We need to delay the arrival of the Sheriff's party at least until we get back inside the bailey!"

He pulled Scarlett to his side, "Will, fetch me Friar Tuck and Much! They're goin' to haveta delay Nottingham's return so that you, Little John and I can get back into the castle and rescue the King!"

Scarlett immediately obeyed. Soon Friar Tuck and Much stood before their master, listening to his instructions.

"I want you to take a goodly number of men with you, as well as a few wagons. There need to be enough men and baggage to seriously slow down Nottingham's column. Dress the men as pilgrims and friars, with weapons well concealed."

"Weapons, Robin?" asked a concerned Much.

"Yes Much, simply a wise precaution. If our luck holds, you'll not 'ave to use them. Now, assemble yourselves well ahead of Nottingham's vanguard at the roadside and await our signal. When you 'ear the signal, I want you to fill the road and very slowly make your way towards the castle. Block Nottingham's progress as long as you possibly can. I leave the means up to you. I'm sure between the two of you, you will be able to come up with a nice load of codswallop to fool the Sheriff."

Tuck and Much nodded and made haste to fulfill their master's directions. After some little while, all was ready and they again stood before him, awaiting the order to depart.

He nodded in satisfaction at the assembled group, then reached out to grasp Much and Tuck by their shoulders as he spoke to them. "Now remember, await our signal. Will, Little John and I will hence for Nottingham Castle as soon as we signal you." He turned to Scarlett and Little John. "Come my good fellows! Let's see who these blokes are...uh, I mean, 'ow many soldiers they 'ave with them."

The three men of Sherwood headed south parallel to the Forest Road and had not crept very far along when they heard the unmistakable noise of a column on the march. They crept closer and gasped in surprise. The vanguard had already passed and the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John were already in sight!

Little John murmured, "Aye, it looks as they have made their time well Robin."

He nodded and held his breath. If things played out with the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John the way they had for the King and the Merrie Men, he had a pretty good idea of who they might be. Scarlett punched him gently in the side and motioned towards the road.

"Robin, the Prince's party approacheth!" he whispered theatrically.

He turned to Scarlett, smirk firmly in place. _Oh, he had to say something to that._ "Approacheth Scarlett? Really?" he hissed.

Scarlett gave him yet another pitying look and shook his head, heartily wishing his master would soon recover his wits.

He waved his two men to keep back as he crept as close as he possibly could to try to confirm his adversaries' identities. Only one glance was necessary for him to immediately tell that the Sheriff of Nottingham was a short, dark fellow with a moustache and what appeared to be a permanent scowl plastered on his face. _Oh bleedin' 'ell, I was right! Hochstetter is the Sheriff of Nottingham! Bloody Nora, that's all we need!_

He crept just a bit closer within the cover of the dense brush lining the roadway as he looked to see who Prince John would prove to be. The Prince was quite a bit taller and befitting his royal position, rode a length ahead of the Sheriff. He rode rather awkwardly it seemed; to tell the truth, he appeared to be barely keeping himself in the saddle. There was no mistaking that bald-pated, hawkish visage and he dropped his face into his hand with a silent sigh. _Blimey!_ _Ol' Klink can't do anythin' well can 'e? Can't even ride a ruddy 'orse!_

He beat a hasty retreat and gave Little John the go-ahead to signal Friar Tuck, Much and their men. The agreed-upon signal was, appropriately enough, the unmistakable call of the cuckoo, a common enough bird in Nottinghamshire. That done, he and his two men disappeared into the forest, their destination Nottingham Castle.

* * *

><p>As Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham rode at the head of their column of wagons and soldiers clogging the Forest Road to York, the vanguard dispatched a messenger to the rear to report that a large group of what appeared to be churchmen were traveling on the road ahead of them. The Sheriff called the column to a halt and broke formation to follow the messenger where the advance guard held the suspect group.<p>

"You are welcome to accompany us, Your Highness!" he gestured to Prince John to follow as he and two of his men rode ahead to confirm the messenger's report.

The Prince's face blanched at the thought and he immediately shrank back, nearly toppling out of the saddle as he did so. "No, no, you go ahead, I shall...I shall stay and look after the column if you do not mind."

"As you wish Your Highness," hissed Nottingham as he spurred his horse forward. _Coward!_ he thought angrily.

* * *

><p>The hoof beat of the horses sounded ever louder and Tuck glanced about anxiously. Much tugged at him to get his attention and whispered, "Play your part well and I promise I will make apple fritters for you upon our return to camp."<p>

"Ooohhh, apple fritters..." salivated Tuck. "With honey?"

"Yes, yes! With honey!" Much gestured to the rapidly approaching riders and nudged Tuck to quietly remind him, "Remember our orders! Play the lickspigot for yon Sheriff whether ye like it or not! Remember, apple fritters soaked in honey await!"

Tuck nodded nervously as Nottingham pounded up to them. The Sheriff impatiently swooped down from the saddle and stalked over to glare angrily at the group.

"What are these men doing here?" he angrily growled through clenched teeth. "Answer me!"

Tuck came forward and bowed as low as his ample girth allowed. He stumbled and Much grabbed him to help him rise. "A moment...m'Lord..." He finally regained his feet and answered Nottingham. "I am but a curtal friar, m'Lord High Sheriff. My acolytes and I have taken a vow of poverty, and are on holy pilgrimage to York. Wouldst thou care to make an offering?"

"No I wouldst not!" snapped Nottingham. "Have you seen any outlaws on this road?"

"Outlaws, m'Lord?" stalled Tuck, trying his utmost to feign an air of shocked surprise.

"Yes, outlaws! Have you seen any outlaws on this road?" shouted Nottingham.

Tuck stared at Much confusedly, then turned to Nottingham with a blank expression. "M'Lord, I see nothing! I know nothing! We have not been accosted by nor seen any outlaws!"

Much stepped forward and bowed low. "My good brother speaks truly, m'Lord. We have seen no outlaws during our journey. God has been good to us."

"Then you will clear this road at once, do you hear me?" screamed Nottingham. "We are on royal business!"

Tuck drew himself up to his full height, presenting a veritable tableau of righteous indignation. "Holy pilgrimage may not be molested upon pain of eternal torment! Dost thou desirest to go to Hell, m'Lord?"

Nottingham's face turned crimson with anger. "Bah! I have not the time for your foolishness!" he shouted. He gestured petulantly to his guards, "You men! Go, bring Prince John to me and do not return without him! Order the rest to make best haste to Nottingham!" He virtually pounced on the captain of the vanguard. "You! You and your men are to accompany me! We ride ahead for Nottingham Castle!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – The Race is On**

After the Sheriff of Nottingham thundered past with a reluctant Prince John in his wake, Much grabbed Friar Tuck and hurried him to the head of their crowd of alleged pilgrims. "Come Tuck! We must make for Nottingham Castle! Robin will need our help!" They stopped to instruct the rest of the men to stay on the road and continue to block the column behind them for as long as possible whilst they made for Nottingham Castle.

* * *

><p>The bells of St. Mary's were ringing Vespers by the time the three men of Sherwood arrived at the sandstone outcrop that formed the foundation of Nottingham Castle.<p>

"Blimey mates!" He wiped the sweat from his forehead; it had been a long sprint from the south end of the Forest Road. "Thought we'd never get 'ere!"

They paused for a few moments to rest and get their bearings. They then made their way to the East Bailey and soon located the entrance to the tunnel which led them into the interior of the bailey.

Making their way into the tunnel proved much more difficult and time-consuming then the previous day's exit, as they inadvertently made several wrong turns into long-disused rooms, junctions and blinds. After much delay, they finally reached the chamber containing the narrow stairway that led to the bailey's main corridor. They carefully entered the corridor and approached the junction near where the King was being held. One glance around the corner told them precisely what they needed to know.

There were still only two sentries guarding the King and they soon made short work of them. Scarlett thoroughly searched the guards, but found no keys to the padlock on the door to the King's cell nor to the shackles binding him to the wall. He stood and pointed towards the cell in frustration.

"Robin! How are we to open the cell without a key? Yon door is padlocked."

He stood idly gazing down at the unconscious guards lying at his feet as he pondered Scarlett's question. _Cor, what I wouldn't give for me lockpicks right about now!_ A glint of metal caught his eye. _'old on, I think I see somethin' I can use!_

He knelt down beside the nearest guard and swiftly removed the item he needed. He got up and gently patted Scarlett on the back. "Not to worry Will m'lad. I think I may be able to 'andle it."

Scarlett sighed and glanced nervously at Little John, who shrugged. "If you say so, Robin."

"I do say so, Will!" He put a hand on Little John's shoulder, and pointed at the guards. "Little John, do me a favor and put those two blokes someplace out of sight, then 'ang back to keep a lookout for us whilst we free the King."

"Aye Robin," Little John nodded and dragged the guards around the corner. He returned to step back into the shadows to keep a watchful eye on the corridor.

"C'mon Will, let's retrieve the King!" He gestured for Scarlett to follow as he sprinted down to the end of the blind corridor. "Let's 'ope they 'aven't moved 'im!"

They found that the King was still imprisoned in the small room at the end of the hallway. He called out, "Sire? Sire?"

The figure chained to the wall very slowly lifted his head. "Who…who…goes…there?"

"We've come to release you Sire!" He turned to Scarlett, who had crowded close, anxious to see how his master intended to open the door. "Give us a bit of space, eh Will?"

Scarlett backed up just a bit but still leaned in to see his master deftly manipulate the padlock using the prong of the buckle he had taken from the unconscious guard. A few quick movements and the lock suddenly clicked open. "See Will? Bob's yer uncle!" he whispered.

"You are a man of hidden talents Robin," replied an impressed Scarlett.

"It's necessary Will," he said as he pulled the heavy door wide open. Both men stepped in and respectfully took a knee before they approached their King.

"Arise…men," murmured Richard.

They arose and Scarlett gently supported the King as his master worked to unlock the shackles on his wrists and ankles.

"Sire, a moment. Let me release you from these chains." A few twists and turns of the buckle's prong soon dispatched the shackles and Scarlett leaned in to keep the King standing as he was suddenly free of the chains.

King Richard was understandably weak and disoriented from the long captivity spent shackled to the wall. He fell into their arms, then raised his head to look his rescuers in their eyes. "Who…who are you…?"

Scarlett looked to his master as they struggled to keep the King upright.

"We are but two of your loyal subjects Sire," he answered quietly. Both men bowed their heads in acknowledgement of their sovereign as they were unable to kneel and support Richard at the same time. He nodded his head in Scarlett's direction. "This gent 'ere is me best mate, Will Scarlett."

The King gently grasped his arm and repeated his question, "And you…you are the one who…spoke to me yesterday are you not?"

"Aye my Liege. My name is Robin; some call me Robin Hood."

"Robin…Hood. I have…heard of…thee Robin." King Richard seemed to gather strength from his admission and stood a bit steadier. He nodded as he spoke, "Come then…good sir knight. Let us make haste!"

"My Lord, I am not a knight, just a simple yeoman."

Richard looked at him and smiled. "I…shall be the judge of that…Robin. Come…."

He smiled back at the King, then nodded at Will. "Let's get out of 'ere." They retraced their steps back to where Little John stood guard and then they all headed down the corridor. Suddenly they heard the clatter of approaching footsteps, as well as the sound of voices.

He turned to Scarlett and muttered urgently, "Will, protect the King! Take 'im and 'ead for the tunnel! Little John and I will stay 'ere and cover yer escape."

"Aye Robin! Take care Little John!" Scarlett shot a meaningful glance at Little John as he spoke; he received a grave nod in return. The unspoken message to protect Robin had been transmitted and received. He then took the King by the arm and hurried as fast as possible for the corridor leading to the tunnel entrance. He had barely made his exit before the owners of the voices they had heard made their presence known.

A squad of no more than eight soldiers marched in, led by a very surprised corporal. They all stopped, momentarily nonplussed by the unexpected sight of the two men of Sherwood.

Taking advantage of their temporary confusion, he leaned in to Little John and whispered, "Fight to disable only, we're not 'ere to kill any of 'em!" Little John nodded and they both leapt to the attack.

The startled corporal was the first to be dispatched by a great wallop to the jaw courtesy of Little John. He then grabbed two of the nearest soldiers and threw them head-first into the wall, where they collapsed into a heap. He looked to his right to see that his master had picked up the corporal's sword; he used it to club one soldier with the hilt and then took out another with a shallow thrust to the side. That left four soldiers, who charged almost simultaneously. Little John had picked up a pike dropped by one of the sentries; he slung it parallel to the floor and shouted, "Robin! Take hold!"

His master understood at once and took hold of the other end of the pike. Holding the pike between them, they rushed the four soldiers and bowled all of them over by knocking their legs out from beneath them. They then quickly rendered the four men unconscious with sharp blows to their heads.

They surveyed their handiwork for a moment, then stood motionless, breathing hard with hands on knees and heads bowed.

"Smashin'…idea…that was…Little John!"

Little John nodded, "It…it…works better with…my staff."

His master simply nodded. When he finally regained enough breath to speak, he affectionately thumped Little John on the back and said, "Let's get outta 'ere!"

Despite their exhaustion, they both sprinted down the corridor towards the blind leading to the tunnel. Suddenly, Little John turned and whispered, "Robin, hold! Dost thou hear that?"

The two men of Sherwood stood silent as the sound of a grating, angrily annoying voice grew gradually nearer. They looked at each other in shock. It was the Sheriff of Nottingham!

* * *

><p><em>AN Depending on the time of year, Vespers rang anywhere from the modern equivalent of 3:00 to 7:00 pm. I'm placing this story-within-a-story in Midsummer, so Vespers would have been rung at approximately 7:00 pm. Since the mechanical clock wasn't invented until some time later, the church played a large role in timekeeping and the hours were marked by the canonical bells of the liturgical schedule. And yes, St. Mary's is real. The Church of St. Mary the Virgin is the oldest religious foundation in the City of Nottingham and the largest mediæval building in Nottingham. The church is mentioned in the Domesday Book and is believed to go back deep into Saxon times. (A tip of the ol' fedora to Wikipedia)._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Sheriffs and Princes and Kings, Oh My!**

"That's jus' bloody marvelous! 'ow did Nottingham get 'ere so quickly?" he gasped.

"He must have somehow confounded Tuck's men," shrugged Little John.

"Let's 'ope 'e didn't bring the entire army with 'im!" He turned to go back and Little John grabbed his arm.

"Robin? We must go quickly!" His master shook his head.

"It sounds like it may be just Nottingham and one other. I 'ave to go back and take care of 'im so 'e can't raise the alarm." He removed Little John's hand from his arm and took his man by the shoulders. "Listen mate, I want you to go 'elp Will wi' the King. That staircase ain't gonna be easy and we don't need to 'urt the King any more than 'e already is."

"But, Robin…."

"No, mate. Go on! I'll be right behind ya as soon as I take care of Nottingham." He looked Little John directly in the eye and spoke firmly. "That's an order, Little John. We 'ave to make sure the King gets away safely! I trust Will but 'e'll need you along as well. Now go – please!"

Little John sighed as he relented. "Very well Robin. Do not tarry!"

"Who me mate? Would never cross me mind!" He flashed his second in command a cheeky grin then disappeared round the corner. He popped back to point at the far corridor. "I told ya to go, now go!"

He waited until Little John finally turned to leave before he slipped back around the corner to see exactly who was approaching. The Sheriff was speaking to someone else, he couldn't tell who.

"I limit the number of sentries who guard the cell to two and have but a single squad on patrol. I do not wish to draw undue attention to our prisoner."

"Efficient as usual, Nottingham! I always say that the Sheriff of Nottingham is very efficient!"

"Yes, Your Highness," Nottingham growled in irritation. "As I was saying, neither do the guards have a key. We must always be prepared for traitors!"

"Traitors, yes, yes. Good thinking Sheriff!"

_Aha!_ he thought to himself. _So that nervous, babbling voice belonged to Prince John!_ He chuckled a bit at Nottingham's precautions, as they had all obviously been for naught. Thanks to a loose-lipped guard, he and his men had been able to locate the King with no difficulty at all! The voices approached ever closer and he decided he'd better reveal himself before they discovered that the King had been released.

"Ya just never know when yer gonna meet a traitor, eh Nottingham?" he declared as he stepped out from the shadows. He still had the broadsword seized in the earlier fight and he brandished it menacingly as he spoke.

Nottingham's face curled into an expression of absolute and complete disgust. "You! How did you get here?" He looked around in apparent shock. "Where are the guards?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out Sheriff!" He moved cautiously towards the two men. "Throw yer weapons onto the floor and step back. Now!"

Prince John immediately unbuckled his baldric and tossed it on the floor. "It's ceremonial only….I really don't know how to use it…," he stammered.

Nottingham turned to the Prince and hissed, "Quiet Your High-ness!" He turned back to address the man who blocked the way to the King's cell. "Unlike Prince John, I will not surrender my sword to an outlaw!"

"No?" his opponent lazily replied. "Cor, I'll jus' 'ave to take it from you then, won't I?"

The Prince cowered fearfully against the wall as the two men began to warily circle each other, swords out and at the ready. Nottingham shouted at him, "What are you doing? Go, summon the guard!"

His opponent called, "I'd not do that if I were you, Your 'ighness."

The Prince nodded nervously, "I think I shall take the outlaw's advice if you don't mind Nottingham!"

"Bah!" shouted Nottingham loudly as he made the first thrust. His opponent easily parried and thrust back, then feinted to draw a furious reaction from the Sheriff. "You will yield to me!" shouted Nottingham angrily. He made a series of vicious thrusts, all adeptly parried by his opponent.

"'ad enough Nottingham?" taunted the outlaw.

"Never!" snarled the Sheriff. He threw an unexpectedly strong body blow that knocked his opponent against the wall where he stumbled, momentarily stunned. Nottingham seized his advantage to crush the outlaw into the wall again, laughing as his opponent sharply struck the back of his head against the stone wall. He fell to one knee, barely parrying the Sheriff's sword whilst desperately trying to recover his balance.

"Who has the upper hand now, outlaw?" sneered Nottingham.

Even though the throbbing pain in his head was proving an unwanted distraction, he fought to keep his mind focused on his mission. Each minute he delayed Nottingham was another minute of safety for the King, Will and Little John. He suddenly dropped and rolled on the floor to shakily come to his feet behind Nottingham. Out of force of habit, he reached back beneath his shirt between his shoulder blades. _Bloody 'ell where's me pencil sharpener when I need it?_

Nottingham cursed and quickly turned. "Stand fast traitor!"

The slur galvanized him and he stood a bit taller as he replied, "Traitor? Yon kettle there calls _me_ traitor? Who is a traitor but the man who imprisons and schemes against the rightful King?"

"That is none of your concern, wolf's head!"

"Wolf's 'ead! D'ya 'ear that Prince John? 'e imprisons yer own brother and 'e's callin' me a wolf's 'ead?"

The Prince didn't rise to the bait and Nottingham whirled upon his opponent to scream in fury, "You…will…yield…!" As the Sheriff rushed forward in a blind rage, his opponent sidestepped him and managed to extend his leg directly in his path. Nottingham went down hard onto the floor, striking his head on the flagstone.

A few moments passed before Prince John cried out, "Outlaw, you have slain the Sheriff! Mercy! I beg mercy, kind outlaw!" The man actually got onto his knees and groveled pathetically.

He didn't reply for a long few minutes as he sought to regain his strength. The unrelenting pain in his head was blurring his vision, yet he kept a close eye on the Sheriff as he lay unmoving on the floor. He picked up Nottingham's sword then gestured to Prince John, "Rise Your 'ighness. Yon Sheriff is not dead. Lay hold of 'im and follow me." The Prince did as he was told and followed the outlaw to the cell that once held the King, all the while fearfully staring at the unconscious soldiers strewn about the corridor. "Drag 'im into the cell and stay there yourself."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say. Just please spare me! Please!" The Prince looked around as if just now discovering that Richard was nowhere to be seen. "Where…where is Richard?"

The outlaw smiled as he answered, "In safe 'ands Your 'ighness. Out of the Sheriff of Nottingham's reach." He then slammed the cell door shut and clicked the padlock securely in place. "Now, I expect that there will be no shouting for aid Your 'ighness. The walls 'ave ears and my men shall come to take their revenge on you when you least expect it."

The Prince nodded, his entire body quivering with fear as the outlaw made his escape.

* * *

><p>Little John had reluctantly gone his way in accord with his master's orders and he found Scarlett at the top of the stairway leading down to the chamber containing the tunnel entrance. He was kneeling beside the King, who was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his eyes closed. "Will! What is wrong?"<p>

"King Richard needed to rest. Thank God you're here Little John! I will need you in order to get the King safely down yon stairway." He looked back over his shoulder. "Where...where is Robin?"

"He went back to face Nottingham."

"What? Alone?"

Little John nodded, "Aye. He ordered me to assist you with the King."

Scarlett looked back again, then at the King, who was obviously not able to make his way down the staircase without their assistance. He gestured to Little John as he spoke to Richard. "Sire, we must make haste. Let us lift you up."

The two men of Sherwood slowly eased their sovereign to his feet. They then carefully and laboriously made their way down the steep staircase, worried both for their King and their master.

Traversing the tunnel proved extremely slow going as they kept a firm, careful grip on King Richard. Scarlett and Little John sighed in relief as the faint light of the outside opening finally became visible. They climbed out and quickly made for the cover of the greenwood.

Scarlett suddenly stopped and shielded the King with his body. "Little John, what is yon noise?" he whispered. There was a definite rustling sound like someone moving steadily through the undergrowth.

They looked up, greatly relieved to see Much and Tuck approach. Little John hailed them, "Much! Tuck! Quickly! Thank heaven you are here! Assist us with the King."

Much and Friar Tuck gathered close to help Will and Little John support their exhausted, shaky King. Much grabbed Little John's arm, "Where is Robin?"

Little John staggered a bit as he shifted King Richard within his grip and shook his head. "He told us to get the King out whilst he fought the Sheriff! He bade us not to wait for him. Robin entrusted the King into our hands and we must get him to Sherwood." He called to Tuck, "Friar Tuck! I charge you to ensure that Will and Much get the King to safety in Sherwood. I will stay and await Robin. Now go, all of you!"

They left, albeit reluctantly, their concern for their sovereign overriding their equal concern for their master. They knew that Robin was in good hands, as Little John would sooner cut off his own arm than abandon his master.

Little John paced nervously for some time, honoring his promise to obey his master's order. He grew increasingly anxious as various scenarios played themselves out in his mind. _Robin tarries far too long._ He finally decided to dart back into the tunnel to see what had become of his master and very nearly collided head-on with him as he stumbled along the dark interior.

"Little John…," he gasped. "Am I glad to see ya mate!" He fell into Little John's arms and looked about. "What...about the King?"

"Safely on his way to Sherwood. Art thou all right Robin?"

He nodded whilst he tried to get his breath back. "Just…a bit knackered. Quite the…fight back there…I took a clout to the 'ead…me vision's off kilter."

"Come Robin, lean upon me." His dazed master complied and Little John swept him along as he quickly made his way down the tunnel towards the exit. "We are nearly there."

As soon as they exited the tunnel out into the open, they heard the loud cry "Ready your bows! Nock! Mark! Draw!" sounding above their heads. Someone had apparently raised the alarm, for the garrison's bowmen had marshaled atop the bailey wall heedless of the cover given by the dense woods below, as well as the quickly encroaching dusk.

"Robin, let us make haste!" Little John tried to rush his exhausted master along as quickly as he could but the bowmen loosed their flight before the two men of Sherwood could get out of range. One lucky archer blindly found his mark as Little John heard his master give a stifled cry of pain.

"What the…? Bloody 'ell, that 'urts…!" He reached down to try to see what had caused him such blinding pain but passed out instead. Little John caught his master as he collapsed, gathered him in his arms and dashed into the forest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – There's No Place Like Home**

Scarlett incessantly paced the camp perimeter, anxiously awaiting the return of Little John and his master. He suddenly spied a figure rapidly approaching the camp; relieved to see it was indeed Little John, he ran to meet him. At the distressing sight of his master lying senseless within his friend's arms, he cried out, "Little John, what has happened to Robin?"

Little John didn't stop and gasped out breathlessly, "Arrow...Nottingham...archers..."

"Bring him to Joseph!" Scarlett called out as he helped Little John safely rush into the camp, "Much! Much, bring hot water! Quickly!"

He vaguely recalled someone scooping him up within their strong arms to carry him for some distance. Those same arms now gently lowered him down onto a soft pallet of blankets and pelts next to a crackling fire. He felt different hands carefully probing and attending at the site of his injury. Despite his exhaustion, he stirred himself just enough to ask the one question he simply had to have answered. He reached out blindly to grasp whomever was near and whispered, "The...King?"

A hand took his whilst a calm voice murmured, "The King is safe, Robin. He is resting and all will soon be well. Do not worry. Go to sleep, rest thyself."

Immensely relieved, he finally allowed himself to be lulled into a doze by the comforting warmth of the fire. As he lay there half-conscious, he could've sworn he heard voices quietly speaking nearby.

_I have soup warming, he will be hungry when he wakes up._

_He's slept for a long time. When will he wake up?_

_Are you sure he'll be all right?_

_Trust me, he's doing fine._

One of them was Much wasn't it? What was he saying? Something about soup? He sounded worried. He thought he heard Little John and Will Scarlett asking concerned questions as well. He also heard the Healer's reassuring voice, calm and steady as usual. He needed to let them all know that he would eventually be fine, to tell them to trust Joseph and not to worry. He tried his utmost to rouse himself but ended up falling deeply asleep instead.

* * *

><p>He didn't know how long he slept. The painfully insistent throbbing of his ankle finally nudged him back to consciousness and he cracked his eyes open just a bit to see the concerned face of Joseph the Healer as he leaned over him to examine his foot. "Don't pull the arrow out yet…" he murmured and Sergeant Joe Wilson looked at him like he was crazy.<p>

"Don't _what_?"

"Lemme steel meself before ya pull the arrow out….what's so 'ard about that?"

"Arrow? What arrow?"

"The arrow that bloody Sheriff of Nottingham's archer shot into me ankle..." A hand suddenly wrapped itself around his forehead, then felt both of his cheeks. He tried to twist away from the intrusive touch. "'ang about, whaddya think yer doin' Joseph?"

"See here Peter, it's either Joe or Wilson. Only my mother calls me Joseph," came the testy reply.

Why would the Healer suddenly be so touchy about his name? He opened his eyes all the way and blinked in shocked surprise. The Healer, Will Scarlett, Much and Little John were all gathered round and gaping down at him in open-mouthed concern. He shook his head and took a closer look at them all, finally noticing the differences in their clothing and the surroundings. He looked down at himself and found that he was lying in a bunk dressed in a nightshirt.

Carter leaned down and spoke to Wilson. "Maybe that sleeping pill was stronger than you thought Joe."

_The King!_ He reached out and grabbed Wilson's arm in a sudden panic. "What've ya done wi' King Richard? Is 'e alright?"

"Who?" All four men blurted out at once.

"The King!" He received only four blank stares in reply, so he shook his head and tried again. "C'mon mates, the Gov'nor!"

"Oh you mean the Colonel!" Wilson rolled his eyes, then reached over to pat the back of his patient's hand as he answered, "He's fine Peter. Don't worry, we're taking good care of him."

_Did 'e just call me Peter? What just 'appened 'ere?_ "Wait...uh...where am I?" He didn't realize he spoke the last question out loud until Carter knelt down to gaze at him in shocked concern.

"You're in my bunk buddy. Don't you remember? You hurt your ankle when you rescued the Colonel from Gestapo headquarters."

Wait a minute…Carter's earlier words just now registered. Everything was slowly and foggily coming back to him. He frowned and hissed, "Sleepin' pill? You slipped me a mickey? I shoulda known there was somethin' dodgy about that cuppa!"

Carter was caught unaware by the sudden change in his friend's mood and frantically backpedalled. "Uh, well, uh…" he looked desperately at Wilson. "Joe…a little help?"

Wilson came to his rescue. "Calm down Peter. It's not Andrew's fault, I asked him to do it. I wanted to make sure you got some rest."

"Cor, mate I got more than that!" He raked a hand through his hair, closed his eyes and felt vaguely sick to his stomach.

LeBeau nudged Kinch playfully, "I believe Pierre had quite a dream while he was asleep!"

_It was all a dream...?_ _It seemed so real!_ His eyes popped open. "Blimey! What a dream!" he scrubbed his hand over his face and then tiredly rubbed his eyes. He chuckled to himself, _Maybe I really __am__ descended from Robin Hood!_

Carter, his interest piqued, leaned in to gently tap his friend on the shoulder, "Why dontcha tell us about it Peter?"

Wilson put a restraining hand on Carter's arm and shook his head, silently mouthing 'later'. The medic's caution was validated when Newkirk yawned and wearily settled himself back into the bunk. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and murmured, "I'll tell ya tomorrow, Will, uh, I mean Andrew. Gonna take a lil' kip right now..." He closed his eyes and drifted off, a contented smile on his face. He slipped easily back into sleep, satisfied that both in real life and in his dream, he had successfully accomplished his mission.

Their Colonel, the Lionheart, was safe.


End file.
